


Detective Mary

by MissMollyBloom



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mary, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, F/M, Secret Relationship, not secret for much longer!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23241598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMollyBloom/pseuds/MissMollyBloom
Summary: When Mary Morstan meets Molly Hooper, she does a few deductions of her own.Prompt fill for @forthegenuine: A Sherlolly + Warstan double date, where Sherlolly can either be established or not!  Bonus if Mary ships it extra hard.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 17
Kudos: 133





	Detective Mary

Ever since Mary had heard the name Molly Hooper, she was fascinated. What was the woman like whom Sherlock turned to in his hour of need? What had she done to assure Sherlock of her complete trustworthiness in the plot to fake his death for two years?

John wasn’t much help. “She’s a pathologist. She’s short with long straight hair,” was all he could supply. Useless.

Mary knew it would take her less than 5 minutes to read the measure of the woman, she just had to get in the same room with her.

The time came the afternoon that Sherlock’s resurrection had been announced to the world and John and Mary held their impromptu engagement party at Baker Street.

Molly had arrived with Tom, the fiancée. Mary followed Tom into the kitchen as he poured Molly a glass of Moet. Mary quickly drank hers to provide the excuse for seeking another.

Tom was stood by the kitchen bench. It only took him shifting weight from on leg to another for Mary to see he was carrying – a Glock 17 if the delay in the movement of his left leg was anything to go by, and it usually was.

Curious, especially since John had told her that Tom was an accountant.

“How did you and Molly meet?” Mary asked as she offered her glass towards him, seeking a refill.

“Mutual friends,” Tom explained as he poured.

“Really? Did they set you up on a date or did you just bump into each other at the pub?” Mary smiled the slow smile of someone who was beginning to get tipsy, although her mind was as sharp as ever despite the quickly consumed glass of bubbly.

If he thought Mary was getting drunk, Tom’s defenses would be down, he wouldn’t be quite as careful with his words.

“Set-up,” Tom nodded, his eyes darting back to Molly, keen to return to her side. Mary noticed how he also glanced at the exits and windows, like he was assessing for any signs of danger.

“When?” Mary asked taking a large sip, before exclaiming, “This is really good plonk!”. More sloppy smiles. Reeling him in.

“Ah – “ a pause, as if trying to recall a true memory, “about 2 years ago.”

He took a step towards the lounge room. Mary pretended to stumble, her hand reaching out to Tom’s arm to stabilize herself.

His muscles tensed, his hands were ready, like he was highly trained in self-defense.

“Was that before or after?” She nodded to where Sherlock was walking back in from his press conference.

“Around about the same time,” he moved to make an exit, cutting short any potentially dangerous lines of inquiry.

Concealed weapon, trained in hand-to-hand combat, flimsy cover story. Definitely Mi5, Mary concluded.

All this before Mary saw the most obvious sign: Molly smiled at her fiancé as he returned with her champagne, a smile that would fool anyone, unless they had the reality to compare it to. And Mary did.

As soon as Sherlock asked Molly a question, her face came alive. Even though she wore a mask of friendship, there was no way to cover her true feelings for the detective that were writ large in the warmth of her voice as she spoke to him, the way her eyes met his, and the slow breath she took to hide the pleasure she felt in being in his presence.

Mary knew what she had seen, she just needed the proof.

Afternoon tea was served by Mrs Hudson. Sherlock, ravenous from concluding his case, made short work of her biscuits, tea cake and scones, leaving scant amounts for everyone else. It was Molly who joined Sherlock in the kitchen to clean up.

To everyone else they looked just like colleagues, friends, who were washing dishes like they would clean beakers and test tubes together in the lab.

But Mary noticed the slight pause as Sherlock’s fingers brushed Molly’s as he passed her a plate to dry. And Mary watched the conspiratorial leaning of their heads towards one another as Sherlock suggested something to Molly, something that made her eyes light up and sent her heading straight back to Tom as if on an urgent errand.

Molly whispered something in Tom’s ear. His eyes narrowed, unhappy with whatever it was she had suggested. Molly simply nodded, sternly.

Tom reached in his pocket as if his phone had buzzed and he’d received a message. He hadn’t.

“I’m sorry everyone – urgent work, I have to leave.”

Mary smirked, “Accountancy emergency?”

“Yes,” Tom said, his tone flat. He didn’t even believe his own lie.

Molly made a show of walking Tom out. What no one else saw, because they didn’t know to look, was how in the stairwell of Baker Street, Molly dismissed him like an employee, not like her fiancée.

It took only a minute after Tom’s departure for Sherlock to start agitating for the others to leave. He’d succeeded in sending Greg and Mrs Hudson packing without much effort at all.

But Mary refused to take the bait.

“John, you and Mary must be tired.”

“No, actually, I’m wide awake!” Mary jumped in.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at Mary, before turning his attention back to John. “But surely you’re hungry, John?”

“Famished!” Mary again spoke before her fiancée could get a word out. “How about we order in?”

Molly started to say something but a glance from Sherlock silenced her.

It was over plates of Thai that Mary started asking Molly the kinds of questions you would ask a potential new friend.

“Where’d you grow up Molly?” Mary asked as she passed the Chicken Jungle Curry.

“Right here in London,” she said.

“And how long have you been working at Bart’s?” Mary asked after a mouthful of Laksa.

“About six years, is that right, Sherlock?” Molly checked in. Sherlock merely grunted, barely listening.

Mary thought it was time to get the detective’s attention.

“And how long have you two been sleeping together?” Mary asked, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“What?” John asked.

“Sorry?” said Molly, her eyes wide, caught.

“About six years, is that right, Molly?” was Sherlock’s casual reply.

“Sherlock, a word?” John stood. If Mary knew her fiancée, and she did, he was about to usher his friend into the kitchen and reprimand him for being so indelicate with the fragile pathologist’s feelings.

“No need John. Molly’s fine, aren’t you?” he reached across the table, placing a hand on hers.

“How did you work it out, Mary?” Sherlock asked.

“Sherlock, Mary, this is stupid, Molly has a fiancée, we just met him.”

“Tom isn’t Molly’s fiancée, he’s her bodyguard. Has been since Sherlock’s death,” Mary explained to John.

John looked between his fiancée, his friend and Molly, trying to work out if what he was hearing was true.

“Drink anyone?” Sherlock asked.

“God yes,” Molly and John said in unison.

“Drink up, Molly, Mary said, smiling, “I expect we’re going to be friends for a long time.”


End file.
